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I'm not ready to forgive you.

Not yet.

I was dead. I had done my time. I was given the reward that all heroes deserve at the end of their lives. I was happy. Content. I died knowing that I did something right.

You decided that wasn't enough. My sacrifices weren't enough. Stripped of everything that I am, you forced me to abandon my happy ending for your petty plot. Because of you I am a god, and I loathe myself.

I will stand by my band through the deserts of Akhetaten. I will endure the enmity of Horus because of a callous mistake. I will swallow my pride and watch my dignity shred to pieces. I will outlast even the archer's mark. I will outlast Apep's awakening.

Then I'm done. Your pawn has crowned herself a queen, and my fate is in my hands. I have one last debt to pay. I have a future to secure. Seasons will pass.

Then in the winter I will come for you and you will regret this game of thrones you've pulled. Your father will be a failure as his father before him. Your victory will be naught but ashes in your throat. I will see you broken.

I'll be ready to forgive you then.